The Fifth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 8) - June 28

Do Not Be Afraid
 Mark 5:21-43

I didn’t intentionally set out to makes this week’s sermon dovetail with last week’s, but it worked out that way. Both are about what it means to have Jesus with us. Last week one of my points was that when Jesus is with us, the very power of God can work through us. God’s power, working in us, can do more than can humanly imagine even when we face pervasive sin and social challenges in the world around us.

This week I’m going to talk about another outcome of Jesus’ presence with us. Starting with a discussion of fear. Jesus mentions fear in both of the Gospel readings, the one appointed for last Sunday and today’s. Last week Jesus and the disciples were in a small boat crossing the Sea of Galilee when a perilous storm came up, threatening to swamp the boat. Jesus was asleep on a cushion in stern. When the disciples wake Jesus up, he says: “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”

This week we have the two healing stories. The healing of the woman with hemorrhages and the healing or raising of Jairus’ daughter. Towards the end of today’s lesson when Jesus finally gets to Jairus’ house and encounters people who fear that the young girl is dead, Jesus says: “Do not fear; only believe.”

This coupling of fear and faith in Jesus’ words has a tendency, I think, to encourage us towards an incorrect interpretation of Jesus’ statements. It’s easy to interpret these passages something like this: If only we have enough faith, then fearful things won’t happen to us. Or, if we have the right faith, then we will be spared fearsome things in our lives. And, then the other side of that interpretation is: when fearful things do happen (like storms or illness) it’s because we don’t have the right quantity or quality of faith.

This sort of interpretation is seductive, too, because so much of our life does work that way. If I just train harder, I’ll win more races. If I just work harder, I’ll be more financially secure. If I do more whatever, I’ll be happier… If I just “faith harder” life will be better.

Except faith doesn’t work that way.

And there are several challenges with this sort of interpretation. First, it’s not clear exactly what specific faith or belief Jesus might be calling for.

Second, the Scripture passages themselves don’t support this interpretation. Yes, Jesus stills the storm and raises Jairus’ daughter. But there is absolutely no evidence in the stories that it is because of some improvement in the quantity or quality of anyone’s faith. It is not as though the disciples manage to acquire some extra or better portion of faith and, as a result, Jesus removes the danger of the storm. It doesn’t happen that way. And when Jesus tells the people in Jairus’ house, “Do not fear; only believe,” they laugh at him.

The experience of Christians throughout history, from the time of the disciples up to today, has not shown that having faith means you will not encounter perilous or fearful things. Just ask the martyrs, for example. There has never been a correlation between quality or quantity of faith and an absence of fearsome events.

Faith does not inoculate us from fearful things. Faith is not a vaccine against frightening or perilous occurrences.

But faith can be an antidote to fear in the face of fearful things. Faith does calm and quiet fear in the face of dangerous or threatening things.

The reassurance that Jesus is offering is this: Do not be afraid, he says, I am with you. Do not be afraid because I am with you.

The particular faith that Jesus is encouraging us to remember is that Jesus actually is what we have being saying since Christmas… that he is Emmanuel. God. With. Us. The peace and comfort and love of God. With. Us. Do not be afraid; I am with you.

So look for the sweet and holy presence of Jesus in the fearful places of your life. He is there. With you. Bringing the peace and comfort and love of God to be with you no matter what.

Last week I stressed that Jesus’ power working through us enables us, beyond our wildest imagination, to change things we can change in the world around us.

This week we are reminded that Jesus’ presence with us brings comfort and peace and stills our fears in the face of things we cannot change in the world around us.

Whenever or wherever you feel frightened, look for the sweet and holy presence of Jesus with you. He is there. Bringing the peace and comfort and love of God.

Remember the well-known passage from Romans: Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. That’s what Jesus shows us in these stories. NO THING can separate us from God. I am with you. Do not be afraid. And it doesn’t depend upon the quantity or quality of your faith. It’s about the presence of Jesus. He’s there. Just hang on. Hang on to Jesus.

The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 7) - June 21

Get in the Boat
Mark 4:35-41

In the midst of all of the news coverage and abundant commentary on the shooting in Mother Emanuel church in Charleston this week, I came across an article on a different subject. It was published in the Christian Science Monitor online, one of my news sources. (The article is HERE.)

Sixth extinction: Human beings are currently causing the greatest mass extinction of species since the extinction of the dinosaurs 65 million years ago, says a new study.

The activities precipitating the collapse of many species and ecosystems are related to human [activity].

According to the researchers, if the currently elevated extinction pace persists, humanity will soon (in as little as three human lifetimes) be deprived of many biodiversity benefits. This means that the Earth's ecosystem is likely to lose much of its ability to provide important life-support systems, from pollinating crops to cleaning and recirculating air and water.

There are parallels, I think between the events that lie behind both of these stories. The horrific shooting in Charleston and the rapid increase in species extinction and loss of biodiversity. Both are evidence of deep, systemic human sin.

It is now very clear that racial hatred was what motivated the alleged shooter in Charleston. As one writer said, however, his was an extreme case, but not a unique one. Racism is not limited to one person or one state. Racism is a pervasive, systemic, social, institutional human sin, one of many that belittles the humanity of those who are different, and leads inevitably to the destruction of human life.

The loss of species diversity may not seem in the same class. And yet, at the same time that our hearts break for the lives lost in Charleston, martyred as they gathered to study God’s Word, and as we pray that God will comfort all who mourn, we must also remember the broad context of racism that is laid bare by this shooting.

And in the big picture racism seems very similar to the sort of sin that is causing widespread environmental degradation of the earth. Loss of species diversity is the result of big, pervasive, systemic human sin by which most of us are, through selfishness or indifference, killing not only, say, the spindly pine tree or the black footed ferret, but other human beings, including our own descendents. The article continues

Scientists in the new extinction study also warn that humans could be among the threatened species because in the aftermath of past mass extinctions, the ecosystem took hundreds of thousands to millions of years to rediversify. "If it is allowed to continue, life would take many millions of years to recover and our species itself would likely disappear early on…"

These are big, systemic problems. For me, the bigness makes them feel overwhelming, too big to even attempt to tackle. The bigness, also, I think enables us to live in denial of our individual responsibility and to ignore the consequences of our individual actions. It was not my racism that killed those people. It is not my indifference that is killing the earth.

Except that it is.

So what are we to do? And I don’t have a specific answer for myself or for you this morning. Certainly each of us can acknowledge and work on our individual participation or complicity in the sins of racism and selfish resource consumption. I know that racism is a part of me despite my fervent wish that it weren’t. We can work on our individual actions. But as followers of Christ I think we are called to do more. As disciples of Christ we must be active in efforts to address and change the larger systemic, social human issues… We cannot be passive; we must offer ourselves to these efforts.

Maybe there’s a connection between all of this and today’s Gospel.

It’s a story. Not a parable or a teaching, but a story. A story about discipleship. A story that illustrates what it is like to be a disciple of Jesus. Mark, who rarely uses any extra words in his Gospel, provides all sorts of interesting, unessential detail in the telling of this story. That detail makes it a vivid story. At the end of a long day Jesus calls the disciples to come with him to the other side of the Sea of Galilee. To leave “their” side, the land of Galilee, and go the “other” side. He went “just as he was,” just as they had known him with them. There were “other boats” as well. The depiction of the storm is vivid… waves crashing over the side of the boat… the boat beginning to founder. Jesus is asleep “in the stern” “on a cushion.”

I was at a meeting of diocesan Deans this week and we discussed this passage. There is the potential for all sorts of interesting sermons to be teased out of those details. Why was Jesus asleep? And in the stern… near the tiller? And who was in the other boats? What does the storm represent? What might the boat be a metaphor for? Interesting points, and I’ve preached that sort of sermon in the past.

But this week I see this passage as a story. A story to be read and pondered in its entirety. A story about discipleship. A vivid story describing the life of discipleship. A story that raises as many questions as it answers.

So. To be a disciple of Jesus is to follow. Without checking your phone first for a weather report. Without knowing exactly where you are going. It turns out they were headed for the land of the Geresenes, not a hospitable destination. And there will be storms. Fierce, dangerous, threatening storms. Does the storm mean something? Mark doesn’t say. It’s just a story. There will be storms. We should not expect the life of discipleship to be storm-free.

In the midst of the storm the disciples cry out to Jesus: “Don’t you care that we are perishing?” Why aren’t you fixing this, Jesus!? Don’t you care? That good people are perishing? That cry is part of the life of a disciple. It always has been. We long for understanding, but do not receive it. They had to wake him up.

After the disciples wake Jesus he quiets the storm. Peace. Why are you afraid?

And, at that point, they realize in some new and profound and awesome way that they are in the presence of God. The peace and the power of God is WITH THEM. To be a disciple of Christ is to have the very peace and power of God with you. With you.

The life of a disciple. Uncertain, often unclear, sometimes frightening, but shared with Christ. Sustained by the peace and power of God. It’s our choice. To follow Jesus as a disciple or stay behind on the familiar shore.

I’m reminded of a passage from Ephesians that the Prayer Book offers as one of the concluding doxologies for Morning or Evening Prayer. Listen to every word.

Glory to God whose power, working in us, can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine: Glory to him from generation to generation in the church and in Christ Jesus for ever and ever [Ephesians 3:20, 21]. 

Glory to God, whose power, working in us, can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine. But only if we get in the boat.

The Third Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 6) - June 14

The Occasional Mission of the Church
Collect for Proper 6

I’m going to talk about Prayer Books this morning. Books, plural. There is a tie in to the propers for today that I’ll come back to later. As Episcopalians we cherish the Book of Common Prayer. It unites us and helps define us as a denomination. There is much to cherish in the rich and reverent language and in the way that “common” prayer, having the same prayers in common, brings us together as a parish community and with other Episcopalians throughout the country and beyond.

As an aside, since I’m in teaching mode, I’d also like to point out a unique aspect of our Book of Common Prayer. Something different from the books used for corporate prayer in other denominations. The Book of Common Prayer is deliberately designed to serve both as a source for our community, corporate prayers, also as a source of prayers for individual use. You should find the Book of Common Prayer not only in the pews of Episcopal churches, but also on the nightstands of individual Episcopalians.

But the Book of Common Prayer is not the only prayer book available for our use. There are other supplemental prayer books approved and available to us as Episcopalians. Like the BCP, they provide “common” prayers for denominational use and they draw upon the rich language and heritage of our Anglican tradition. One is the Book of Occasional Services. It is a resource for services used occasionally, but not universally in Episcopal parishes.

Just to introduce you to the Book of Occasional Services if you’re not familiar with it: It includes services for Advent and Christmas Lessons and Carols. We use the Christmas one. A service that is only occasionally celebrated but is a wonderful part of our heritage from the Church of England.

Some of the supplemental liturgical rites that we use during Holy Week come from the Book of Occasional Services… the agape meal, the watch in the garden, the foot washing.

All those little mini-liturgies that we do when we dedicate new vestments or a new banner or Sanctus bell… those are not made up by the Rector. They come from the Book of Occasional Services.

The special focus on healing that we use at the Wednesday Eucharist comes from the Book of Occasional Services. As does the service used by Lay Eucharistic Visitors when they take the sacrament out to those unable to be in church so that they can be included in our common worship.

And the service for the Blessing of a Home! How many of you knew we had an Episcopal service for the Blessing of a Home? A service where we pray that God will dwell in the home where we dwell. It’s a wonderful service, yet in almost 25 years of ordained ministry I can count on both hands the number I’ve been asked to do. In that service we pray that God will bless each room in the house… the living room, the dining room, the study, the garden, the bathroom, the bedroom… bless that space and bring blessing to the lives and activities of the people who dwell there. And bless the doorway and the people and the journeys that come and go.

So it was actually the Collect appointed for today that set me off on this train of thought. In that collect we pray that we may proclaim God’s truth with boldness and minister God’s justice with compassion. Unlike many of our collects where we pray that God will comfort or heal or guide us individually, in this collect we pray that we may fulfill the mission of the church. I like the simplicity and the forcefulness of this collect. Supported by God’s love, sustained by God’s grace, we pray that we may proclaim God’s truth with boldness and minister God’s justice with compassion.

I had the opportunity this past week to participate, just as a guest, in a service for the installation of a new rector at a parish in the diocese. Those are fun celebrations. They can, however, sometimes be rather inward looking, focusing primarily on the rector’s ministry within the parish and the internal relationships of the parish community. This service, however, was intentionally outward looking, focusing also on the parish’s ministry outside its walls in the surrounding neighborhood.

As a part of this service we said a Litany for the Mission of the Church (from the Book of Occasional Services.) It’s a litany we pray far too occasionally. Listen to some of the intercessions.

Savior, deliver us. From blind hearts and petty spirits, that refuse to see the need of all humankind for your love.

What is it in our lives blinds us to other peoples’ need for God’s love? What enables us to deny or ignore the profound value of God’s love in other people’s lives? What blindness, what petty selfishness insulates us from the needs of others?

Savior, deliver us. From pride, self-sufficiency and the unwillingness to admit our own need of your compassion.

Often one of the biggest stumbling blocks to seeing others’ need for God’s love is the failure to admit our own need. I can do it. I have everything I need. I am strong enough, smart enough… to manage. I don’t need anyone’s help or compassion.

Savior, deliver us. From ignorance, apathy, and complacency that prevent us from spreading the Gospel.

In my experience and observation, apathy is the big one. We just don’t care enough about the Gospel to spread it… to proclaim God’s truth with boldness as the collect says.

And then the Litany continues with intercessions for the gifts of ministry. And we need to pray to be given those gifts. It is only when we ask God for the gifts of ministry that we can do the ministry to fulfill the mission of the church.

O God, we pray for the gifts of ministry.
Inspire our minds with a vision of your kingdom in this time and place.
Touch our eyes, that we may see your glory in all creation.
Touch our ears, that we may hear from every mouth the hunger for hope and stories of refreshment.
Touch our lips, that we may tell in every tongue and dialect the wonderful works of God.
Touch our hearts, that we may discern the mission to which you call us.
Touch our feet, that we may take your Good News into our neighborhoods, communities, and all parts of the world.
Touch our hands, that we may each accomplish the work you give us to do. 

 O God, we pray for the gifts of ministry that we might fulfill the mission of the church. Amen.

Trinity Sunday - May 31

Salvation
Romans 8:12-17
John 3:1-17

Today is Trinity Sunday. That unique day in the calendar of the church year when we focus on a doctrine. It’s really about God, of course. A doctrine about how we describe God’s indescribability.

One piece I read this week included this statement: The Trinity cannot be analogized. I didn’t know “analogized” was a word, and it may not be, but it’s still a good statement to hang on to. The Trinity cannot be analogized. No analogy is correct. Even your favorite. Some may be a bit better than others. But no analogy of the Trinity is correct. So I’m not going to try.

I’m going to preach on something “easy” instead… John 3:16. It’s a familiar verse: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” Very familiar! But not really all that easy to interpret. As often as we hear it, what does it really mean?

I think the most common interpretation goes something like this: If we believe in Jesus, then God will give us eternal life. Although, what exactly are we supposed to believe about Jesus? If we believe somehow that Jesus is our Savior, in return for that belief, God will reward us with life after death.

But what if we only 80% believe? We want to believe, we want to understand, but we’re not always there 100%… Do we still get eternal life? Or only 80%?

 John’s Gospel continues: God sent his Son “in order that the world might be saved through him.” Again, what really do we mean by salvation? And is John’s proclamation reassuring or discouraging? Did God set the bar for the world’s salvation high or low? How does it look to you? All it takes is our belief.

Many people before I have noted that there is another way to look at salvation. To think about salvation as something God offers now, not just later, not just after death.

In this context, Jesus’ life and death are viewed primarily as expressions of God’s love for us. Illustrations. Look, God says, to us THIS is how much I love you. I sent my own Son to bring myself to you, to offer my own presence and love to you.

Paul is talking about this in the passage from Romans we heard today. Paul says: God loves us as much he loves Jesus. “All who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God.” Like Jesus, we are children of God.

“When we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’ it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ.” We are in the same relationship with God that Jesus is. Heirs of God’s love.

And it is the Spirit, God’s own Spirit, God’s own power, that leads us to see and understand that God loves us. It doesn’t depend upon our belief.

What would it be like to really live with that awareness of God’s love for us all day every day? That’s salvation!

To live knowing we are God’s beloved children, adopted and chosen and named co-heirs with Christ. To live with the awareness that we are unconditionally loved. That we have immeasurable value in God’s eyes. That no matter what we do; no matter what is done to us; no matter where we go… God always loves us and cares about us. To live in that love is salvation.

David Lose, whom I often find quotable, wonders if “part of the reason so many of our people have a hard time connecting faith to everyday life is simply because we don’t take God’s promises seriously enough.” We don’t take God’s promise to love us unconditionally seriously enough.

This week’s readings reminds us of God’s expansive, comprehensive, unconditional love and acceptance of us as his children, co-heirs with Christ of his love.

What if we could hang onto that promise throughout our daily lives? Really hang onto it. How would it affect our relationships, to enter into those relationships knowing ourselves unconditionally loved by God? How would it impact our conversations with others, those close to us and the casual conversations of every day? How would it affect the decisions we make and how we spend our time if we remembered that nothing can take Gods love from us? Think about it.

Think about it. Would we… Risk more? Care more? Share more? Fear less?

You have immeasurable value in God’s eyes. No matter what, God always loves you and cares about you.

Pentecost - May 24

Light a Fire Under Us
Acts 2:1-21

Today is Pentecost, the day that the church celebrates the gift of the Holy Spirit. I’ve been thinking about some of the hymns that we associate with the Holy Spirit.

We’ve just sung a local favorite, “Breathe on me, breath of God… Fill me with life anew, that I may love what thou dost love, and do what thou wouldst do. Breathe on me, breath of God, until my heart is pure, until with thee I will one will, to do or to endure…” It’s a gentle, comforting hymn.

One of the better known Taizé chants is also about the coming of the Spirit: Veni, Sancte Spiritus. Come, Holy Spirit. Those of you who know the music of Taize know that it is simple and repetitive. Meditative. Veni, Sancte Spiritus… Veni, Sancte Spiritus… Veni, Sancte Spiritus. Another hymn that is comforting, reassuring.

There’s another hymn that may not be as familiar to many of you, but it is very frequently done at ordinations (Hymn 503). “Come Holy Ghost our souls inspire and lighten with celestial fire.” (“Celestial fire” sounds so very proper and elegant). “Thou the anointing Spirit art who dost the seven fold gifts impart.” It’s tune is gentle, too. Another hymn that conveys comfort and sustenance from the Holy Spirit.

The Holy Spirit certainly does bring us comfort, strength and sustenance. But these sound like upper room hymns. Hymns that the disciples might have sung in the upper room before Pentecost. If you think about it, we have quite a few stories that take place after Jesus’ death which show the disciples huddled together in the upper room or somewhere inside.

We heard one in the Gospel reading on the Second Sunday of Easter: “When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear…” The disciples are huddled together, afraid.

Last week, in Acts, we heard a story about the disciples after Jesus’ ascension: “Then they returned to Jerusalem…. When they had entered the city, they went to the room upstairs where they were staying, Peter, and John, and James, and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas son James.” I can imagine them coming together in prayer and singing one of these hymns, seeking comfort and strength in the face of fear and uncertainty.

Then today, again from Acts: “When the day of Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place…” Huddled together, sitting inside a house…

And then everything changes. Pentecost changes everything.

 Of all the images that we use for the Holy Spirit, Pentecost is about fire. It’s not a comforting image. But it is a good one. We ask the Holy Spirit to do a lot for us, but maybe there’s one thing we don’t ask often enough: Light a fire under us.

So often in artistic representations of Pentecost, the Holy Spirit is depicted as individual flames hovering over each of us, sort of like a personal holy pilot light. And it’s good to remember the individual, personal gift of the Holy Spirit. But let’s also pray that the Holy Spirit will light a fire under us.

After Pentecost there is no more huddling in the upper room. Pentecost is the day that the disciples and the early church changed from being primarily inward looking to being outward looking and acting. Just after the portion of Acts we heard this morning, Acts relates that: “Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles.”

After Pentecost, the disciples still came together for prayer and thanksgiving, but remember that the book that tells the story after Pentecost is called “Acts.” The Acts of the Apostles.

Come Holy Spirit, light a fire under us.

It’s a vivid image… Light a fire under us. I was curious about the origin of the phrase. According to Wiki-something, the origin of the phrase came from when chimney sweeps were scared to go up the chimneys, the fire would be lit under them in order to motivate them to climb to the top.

Its contemporary meaning is “to get someone to act quickly or forcefully, especially someone who has not been doing enough before.”

Come Holy Spirit, light a fire under us.

The Holy Spirit does, of course, comfort, guide, sustain, and enlighten us in our Christian lives. But, on this day of Pentecost, let’s also remember the Spirit’s power to motivate, to light a fire under us.

As I was thinking about this, one more image came to mind. A geyser. You know how geysers work… they are quiet for some period of time while water is heated and pressure builds up under ground. Then they erupt, usually with a good bit of forth. Maybe coming to church on Sunday and praying for the presence of the Holy Spirit is a bit like that. Sitting on a geyser… Old Faithful erupts every 63 minutes. We’ve been here about 30 minutes at this point… So just about when this service is finishing…